


Teplo

by Qitana



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling, there is a gross amount of fluff, yurio curses like a sailor as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:52:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9169453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qitana/pseuds/Qitana
Summary: Yuuri’s sure if it got even a degree colder, his balls would end up bluer than the goddamn sky.





	

**Author's Note:**

> google translate tells me Teplo means warm in russian.

Yuuri’s sure if it got even a degree colder, his balls would end up bluer than the goddamn sky.

“O-o-of all the t-t-times, wh-why now?” he stutters, stuffing his hands further into his track suit pockets. Any deeper and he might just rip a hole through the material, but Yuuri couldn’t care less. It’s freezing, and he knows as night falls, it’s only about to get colder.

He’s no stranger to harsh weather- Hasetsu has hit him with ridiculously hot summers and chilly winters, but Russia’s cold bites in a way no other place ever has. Yuuri’s spent a majority of his life in an ice skating rink, but the sheer amount of pain he feels at the moment is unnatural. No amount of exposure to ice could possibly prepare him for this.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

It’s a familiar voice, the anger and stubbornness a comfort that cuts through the fog in Yuuri’s brain. He never would’ve thought Yurio’s voice would be a source of such happiness, but it is.

Yuuri turns to face him, shivering violently, “I-it’s so, so c-cold.”

Yurio cocks his head, a surprisingly innocent expression adorning his absolutely stunning features, “It is?”

“Of course it is!” Yuuri hisses, a shudder working its way through his body. “Wait, y-you cant fee-l it?”

Yurio shakes his head, his blonde hair billowing around like a silk curtain. Yuuri would be mesmerized by the sight if he wasn’t so busy metaphorically and most likely literally dying because of the cold.

“Yo-you are h-h-human right?”

Yurio rolls his eyes and huffs, “Yes I am, fatso. But I also happen to be a human that was raised in Russia.” His accent gets particularly thick when he pronounces his country’s name, and the pride in his eyes makes Yuuri smile on the inside. He isn’t capable of smiling right now even if he tried.

“It’s strange,” Yurio continues, eyebrows furrowing, “that this place is acting up now. And only the heating is fucked up, the lights are still on. Maybe the heater broke?”

Yuuri isn’t sure if his heart is breaking because of the way Yurio’s cussing or because he may be right, maybe the heater is broken. And that completely sucks, because all his stuff – his extra fluffy coats and the three layered blanket - is on the flight back to Hasetsu with Victor. The man had insisted that Yuuri travel as light as possible, especially with the slight leg injury he’d sustained during his performance, and Yuuri had finally, quite reluctantly, agreed. He missed Victor so much, and the cold made it infinitely worse- the situation called for cuddles and hot chocolate, which Victor would’ve probably specialised in, if not for ice skating. The man was practically made to cuddle.

There’s a constant clicking noise in the room that wasn’t there before, breaking through the awkward silence that blankets over the two Yuri’s. It takes Yuuri a few moments to realise it’s his damned teeth chattering because of the cold. He pulls the jacket closer to himself, but it doesn’t help one bit.

“Is it really that bad?”

Yurio sounds sceptical, but there’s a hint of concern in his voice. Yuuri looks up just in time to see Yurio sneak a peek at his injured leg and it warms his heart, to see that the tiger of Russia, famed for his impassiveness, can be gentle and caring, though rough around the edges.

“Russia is b-beautiful,” Yuuri says, smiling at nothing in particular, “mostly c-covered i-in white and shades of g-grey. I love that Victor g-grew up here and that I c-could explore and compete here. But R-Russia can be v-very cruel sometimes, e-e-especially to a small town b-boy like me.”

Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut and huddles into the arm rest of the couch, trying to bask in his own body heat. The smallest of movements allows cold air to rush in and stab at him like steak knives, which he’s long since realised is not a nice sensation, not in the least.

He’s too busy writing a will and an obituary in his head to notice the couch dip beside him, so he almost jumps out of his skin when he feels an arm rest on his shoulder. Yuuri yanks his eyes open and nearly screams, only stopping when Yurio covers his mouth with mitten covered hands, simultaneously hissing out a Shhhhhhhh.

“W-what are you d-d-doing?”

Yurio huffs, a tiny puff of white smoke escaping his pink lips and dissolving into the air between them, “What does it look like?”

It looks like you want to kill me, Yuuri thinks, but he hears himself say something along the lines of I don’t know?

“You really don’t think of anything but pork bowls and Victor do you?” Yurio sounds exasperated, and for a second Yuuri forgets he’s the adult and Yurio’s the child. It’s a common occurrence that he’s not proud of.

Yurio sighs, scratching the back of his neck, “Idiot.”

Yuuri is about to retort when Yurio reluctantly reaches for his bag and pulls out something that looks like a furry, black rug. He places it beside him and turns to Yuuri.

He points at his jacket, “Off.”

Yuuri shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I’ll die.”

“Do you trust me?”

The question forces Yuuri to open his eyes, and the vulnerability he sees in Yurio’s irises and in the clench of his jaw makes him loosen his grip around his jacket. He does trust Yurio, so much that it almost upsets him that Yurio has to actually ask. He begins unzipping it slowly, biting his lip against the howl of pain that threatens to bubble out of his throat.

Yurio takes the jacket from him before quickly draping the furry blanket over the both of them. It’s warmer already, but the true surprise is when Yurio immediately curls into Yuuri. He fits perfectly, his arms wrapped around Yuuri’s middle, head resting in the crook of his neck as he tangles their legs together.

It feels like sitting in front of a fire, but better, so much better. Yurio is just a warm ball of human heat, every inch of him aiding in the defrosting and revival of Yuri Katsuki. He even smells incredible- almost floral, subtle but strong. Yuri doesn’t wait another moment; he wraps his arms around the petite teenager and pulls him close to his chest, burying his head in that mop of blonde hair that several of Yurio’s fangirls cry over on an everyday basis. It tickles his nose in the most pleasant of ways. Yuri nuzzles him and pulls him closer, sighing softly. It feels so good.

“Could you stop squeezing the shit outta me?” Yurio grumbles against his throat, but there’s not an ounce of hostility in his voice. Yuri smiles into his hair, refusing to loosen his grip.

“This is Victor’s fault, and you know it,” Yuuri hums, looping his leg around Yurio’s, further entangling their limbs. “His cuddle monsterness rubbed off on me.”

Yurio scoffs, “That’s not even a word.”

“I know. But you get what I mean, and you also know I’m right.”

“…. Screw you.”

Yuri chuckles softly, the sound rumbling out of his chest. He feels alive now, the cold almost a distant memory.

“….. better?”

Yuuri stops chuckling and cranes his head closer to Yurio, “Pardon?”

Yurio buries his face in Yuuri’s neck, and his ears are a ripe red colour. “I said,” he grunts, fists clenching Yuri’s shirt, “do you feel any better?”

Yuri hugs him even tighter, a feat he didn’t know was possible, and places the softest of kisses on his forehead. “I feel really good. Thank you, Yurio.”

Yurio nods slightly and doesn’t speak again. A few minutes later, his breathing evens out, and Yuri finds himself snuggling a kitten that’s fast asleep. He feels his heart melt into a puddle, and he presses another kiss to his forehead.

“spokoynoy nochi.” 

(sleep well)

**Author's Note:**

> [Naru](http://nairuru.tumblr.com) often tells me to post even my smaller ficlets here, so yeah, there we go! 
> 
> comments give me a reason to live thanks 
> 
>  
> 
> [Scream at me?](http://qitwrites.tumblr.com)


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